


frunze

by itsmylifekay



Series: Pahar [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Drawing, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-22 10:03:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3724762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsmylifekay/pseuds/itsmylifekay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve likes to draw on Bucky's back. A one-shot in my Pahar!au, you don't have to read the larger work to get this one though. It's pretty much just fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	frunze

**Author's Note:**

> Translations at the end. Hope you enjoy.

 

“Buck, stop squirming.” Steve scolds, words coming out slightly muffled due to the marker clenched between his teeth. He smooths over a patch of Bucky’s skin with his thumb then presses down, pushing Bucky’s chest further into the sheets while his bony hips get better situated on top of Bucky’s ass.

Bucky just groans into the pillow. “You’re killin’ me, you know that?” Because fuck if it wasn’t some kind of blessed torture, having Steve sat on top of him, bent over at the waist and drawing patterns of who-knows-what in black ink on tan skin. The tip of the pen Steve used for the base design created a conflicting sensation between scratching and tickling and Bucky could never quite get used to the way it would sometimes catch and pull at his skin.

The marker, though, that was something else entirely. It was smooth and cold and never failed to send shiver after shiver down Bucky’s spine. And Steve would chastise him, press a cold palm into the small of Bucky’s back and to the dip of a shoulder blade in an attempt to pin him down. More often than not that just succeeded in making Bucky squirm even more, longing to push into those hands, have them run all down his sides, flip over so he could get his own hands on the soft skin he knew was waiting just on the other side of Steve’s thin shirt.

“I can hear your dirty thoughts from here,” Steve grumbles again, making a firm sweep of the marker just above the waistband of Bucky’s boxer briefs. “Dracului pervers.”

“Hey, I’m not the one drawing on someone else’s ass.” Bucky knocks his hips back just slightly, jostling Steve’s position but making sure Steve’s lifted the marker before he does it. (He wants to be annoying, not a total ass.)

But Steve just shakes his head, the eye roll so obvious Bucky swears he can hear it. The marker goes back down onto Bucky’s skin and they fall back into easy silence, just the sound of their gentle breathing and the playlist Bucky’s got going on his computer. The window’s open to let out some of the marker fumes and every now and again they’ll get a burst of sound from outside, people laughing, birds flying overhead, a siren in the distance. But they’re both so lost in this silent ritual of theirs that they hardly notice anything else.

Bucky can’t even remember the first time Steve drew on him, it was so long ago. Probably in grade school or something, a product of classroom boredom, pens, and Bucky as a willing if not fidgety canvas. And just like they’d grown up together, the designs Steve put on Bucky’s skin grew as well. From errant doodles of smiley faces and flowers and swirls to now full-blown masterpieces painstakingly etched up and down his spine.

They took pictures of them now, too. It was never painful, washing them off, since they both knew it wouldn’t be too long before Steve just filled up all that blank space again. But it was nice nonetheless to know that they had a reminder stored away somewhere in cyber space. And, recently, they had reminders stored at the campus art building. Bucky’d been wearing a loose tank top one day, Steve’s drawing from the night before arching quite obviously across his shoulders and up his neck and even slightly around his sides. He hadn’t thought much of it, just yawned and rolled out of bed then cursed when he realized Steve had forgotten his fucking inhaler _again._ On a day he was going to be soldering.

Usually, they’d shower together at night, wash the ink off together. But they’d both been tired, Steve slightly under the weather, so they’d decided this was going to have to be one of the times Bucky showered alone. In the morning. Because like hell was Bucky going to pry himself out of a warm bed without the incentive of wet, naked Steve to get him up and moving.

But then Bucky’d seen Steve’s inhaler, cursed and threw on whatever clothes were convenient and bolted out the door without any time for a shower. Honestly, he’d pretty much forgotten about the ink all over his back until he was leaned in the doorway to Steve’s studio, chewing Steve out and getting sassy eyerolls in return, and a professor had walked by, then stopped, and promptly doubled back around.

Needless to say they’d been impressed and now pictures of Bucky’s back covered in swirling black ink were hung in the campus art building.

Not all of the pictures they took made it to the display though. In fact, they still kept most of them to themselves. It was too personal, too intimate a ritual for them to feel comfortable sharing too much of it with the world.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Steve asks quietly, hand gentle on Bucky’s back as he draws another line, followed by a series of dashes that have Bucky’s toes curling.

“Just thinking about how amazing you are,” Bucky sighs. “All those pictures up on display. Who would’ve thought this little thing could’ve gotten so big.”

Steve hums thoughtfully under his breath, finishing another section before answering. “I guess so yeah. Does it bother you?”

Bucky shakes his head. “Nah. I think it’s cool. Just means I’ll have to make sure to keep my back lookin’ extra nice, if it’s gonna be up for public inspection.”

He hears a little snort from behind him and then Steve’s hand squeezes his shoulder, holding him steady as he gets back to work.

It’s probably another hour before Bucky feels Steve sit back, all of his weight rested on Bucky’s hips. The telltale click of a marker being capped has him blinking his eyes open. They’re sticky with half-sleep and he gingerly lifts one arm to rub them open. “You done?”

“Mhmm,” Steve hums, leaning over Bucky to drop his pen and markers to the floor before placing both his hands on Bucky’s biceps, pushing him back down into the mattress before he leans down and kisses warm and open-mouthed at the nape of Bucky’s neck. The groan that gets out of Bucky is frankly embarrassing, loud and unexpected. His hips roll on their own, something sinuous and slow. Steve freezes then lets out a soft sound of his own, moving around Bucky’s neck to tease just behind his ear before finding the corner of his mouth.

Bucky props himself up on an elbow so he can get closer, mouth open and searching against Steve’s, everything hot and warm and fuzzy and just the right amount of perfect. They pull apart slowly, still breathing each other’s air. Bucky’s the first to speak.

“Steve,” he whispers. “Fuck, the things you do to me.”

Steve just leans in and kisses him again, slow and tortuous, lithe body moving against Bucky’s until they’re somehow propped up against the wall, Steve straddling Bucky’s lap and pushing thin fingers through his hair. Bucky’s hands come up and grip his hips, guiding them together in a slow roll that has them both panting. It’s just a tease, not meant to go much further than that. They rarely have sex after Steve’s finished drawing. It usually just devolves into lengthy kissing, soft groans into the darkness and Bucky’s eyes rolling into the back of his head when Steve finally shows him his back in the mirror, fingers feather light against Bucky’s stomach and chest.

Tonight is no different. Minutes passing with Bucky taking everything Steve will give him before Steve finally pulls away and stares down at Bucky’s blissed out face, running a finger over one dark eyebrow before standing up and digging their standing mirror out of the closet. Bucky’s breath catches in his throat when he sees what Steve’s done this time.

As always, it’s gorgeous. Smooth lines and intricate swirls, everything interlocking into something that Bucky’s eyes have a hard time grasping all at once. It feels like he could stare at it forever and still not get all the little details Steve put into it. There are vines curling up his spine, heart shaped leaves unfurling against his skin before bursting into a part of the larger whole. Each time he moves to get a better look, a different angle, the muscles in his back shift and make the whole thing come to life, a swirling, moving mass there against his skin.

Steve watches him through the mirror, one hand braced on Bucky’s stomach, the other reaching up to cup Bucky’s cheek once he turns around. His thumb traces gently over Bucky’s jaw.

_You like it?_

Bucky huffs and leans down to bite softly at the junction between Steve’s neck and shoulder.

_Is that even a question?_

He leans back and presses a kiss to Steve’s lips, pulling away just enough to whisper. “Îngerul meu de pahar, te iubesc.”

The blush on Steve’s cheeks is so faint Bucky can hardly see it, but he does. Brushes over it with a thumb before pressing another kiss to Steve’s lips, murmuring another _“te iubesc”_ into the nonexistent space between them.

_I love you._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Dracului pervers = fucking pervert  
> Îngerul meu de pahar, te iubesc. = My glass angel, I love you.
> 
> Thanks for reading! I'm on tumblr, same username, if you wanna say hi^^


End file.
